


Cloudy Days

by JazziGirl



Series: Brotherly Love [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Brother/Brother Incest, Cuddles, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, James Lives, M/M, Moresomes, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazziGirl/pseuds/JazziGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been six months, and he still hasn't come home. Dead men have a terrible habit of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cloudy Days

Blank. Empty. Flat and lifeless.

The wall was exactly how Alastair felt today.

He stared at it intently, looking but not seeing. Gazing, but not thinking. Because if he thought, he would break. And he knew that if he broke today, he wouldn't be put together again any time soon.

The front door opened and closed softly, clicking shut as footsteps crossed the floor towards him. A warm body sat next to him on the couch, on his left. The spot on his right was empty, as it had been for six months exactly. Nobody sat there, not anymore.

"Alastair." His brother's voice sounded far too loud in the quiet house.

"Alastair, look at me." Mark spoke with a sharp tone to break through Alastair's haze. It hurt him to speak harshly to his brother, knowing the pain he was feeling, but it had to be done before he slipped away completely. Exactly one month after James died, he had found Alastair exactly like this, staring blindly at the wall, and it had taken a week of showering him and feeding him and forcing him to change before he was able to try any of that himself. Even now, six months later to the day, everyone at Kingsman knew that when Percival had a certain look about him, they would have to repeat their questions or statements once or twice for him to process their words and respond. No one minded, not really. Eggsy was especially good about it, always being sure to touch Alastair's finger or wrist when he spoke to him, keeping him focused and grounded in the way that worked on him when Harry died. Grief changed people, that was for sure, and there was little to be done but make sure they didn't stray too far from their foundations so they could hopefully be rebuilt eventually.

Alastair finally looked at him. "Mark... He's still gone." He whispered in a broken voice.

Mark swallowed hard and nodded his head. "Yes. He is." He saw the tears welling in Alastair's eyes and part of him lifted. Crying was good, it was better than the emptiness that had been there a moment ago. Mark hadn't cried when he found out, and he hadn't cried anytime since then either. In fact, he had only cried a handful of times in his life, every time over his baby brother. The one who was looking at him now, face finally splitting to show the pain underneath. Mark reached out to Alastair, drawing him close to his chest as the tears began. Mark started rocking him and softly sang under his breath:

"You are my sunshine,  
My only sunshine,  
You make me happy  
When skies are grey.  
You'll never know, dear,  
How much I love you.  
Please don't take my sunshine away."

He repeated the song that James always sang to Alastair in their moments of romance, singing it over and over and over until his sobs subsided.

Mark helped him sit up, placing one hand on his cheek and feeling the now silent tears stream around his fingers. "It's only 2 o'clock in the afternoon, we can't just sit here staring at the wall." He spoke softly now that his brother had come back to him. "What can we do? I can make you food, I can pull out a stupid art project, we can watch a movie... What will help you?"

Alastair pulled a box of tissues close and used one to wipe his nose. "Mark..." He started, not finishing his sentence as he zoned out again. Mark shook his hand and Alastair came back with a small jump. "Sorry, I'm sorry Mark."  
"It's ok, little one." Mark assured him. "What were you going to say?"

Alastair hesitated before speaking. "Don't you miss him too?"

Mark stared for a moment, dropping his hand from his brother's face. "Of course I do, Alastair. You know how much he meant to me... To us." He spoke in a flat voice, quiet and blank. "But you also know that James would take a swift kick at my arse with his special-issue Oxfords if I didn't take care of you."

Alastair gave a small grin at that, picturing James trying to kick Mark's butt. "You know that he would freeze in his tracks the moment you glared at him. That's the only way he'd ever stop anything."

Mark chuckled. "True, except when it came to you. Nothing could stop him when it came to you. I swear, that man would blow up Buckingham Palace if he thought you were being held captive there."

Alastair gave a small, slightly choked laugh at that. "Yeah, but he'd be sure to help the Queen out and and onto a plane first. And he'd give her an ice cream cone on the way."

"Strawberry, of course, because... What was it he used to say? 'Strawberries bring sunshine to your life'?" Mark said, laughing full on now.

"Oh god, and don't get me started on all those ridiculous jokes on old wives' tales. 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away if it's aimed well enough!'" Alastair found himself actually laughing now, picturing that stupid look on his stupid face whenever Alastair or Mark tried to make him eat his vegetables. He was worse than a child, honestly. 

Alastair felt his laughter trail off, picturing that impish grin on his handsome face, imaging that deep baritone laugh that sounded like music to him. Things that he would never see or hear again.

They sat in silence for a moment, remembering the man they loved. Sharing those memories kept them alive, kept them as bright and vivid as the man who created them.

Mark was the first to speak. "I miss him." He said softly. He felt Alastair's hand slide into his, long and slender, fitting neatly into his. "I do too, brother. I do too." Alastair whispered, tamping down the tears. He wouldn't spend the rest of the day crying, he just wouldn't.

"Let's have a drink to him," Mark suggested. Alastair nodded. "I'll pour the drinks and you can make us a milkshake? God knows he drank those things like water, it seems fitting." Alastair suggested with a grin. Mark nodded and stood up, walking towards the kitchen as Alastair stepped to the small drink bar in the corner of the living room.

"Scotch sound good?" He asked over his shoulder, pulling out the tray as Mark pulled the blender out.

"Works for me," Mark said, grabbing the milk from the fridge. "What flavour milkshake?"

"Strawberry, of course." Alastair said as he poured the drinks. "There's a tub in the freezer, I couldn't bring myself to throw it away."

"You kept my ice cream? I can't believe it, you really do care."

Alastair froze with the drinks in hand. That voice...

He turned around quickly. Standing against the front door, leaning on the frame, was James.

There was a thud from the kitchen as Mark dropped the ice cream. Nobody moved a muscle. Several moments passed.

James waited patiently, heart pounding in his chest. God he had missed them, and he wanted so badly to run in and just pull them into a bear hug and kiss them and never let go. But things had changed. They had grieved him, and he didn't know how they would react. So he forced himself to stay still, let one of them move first. He stared at Alastair, holding the gaze that was surprisingly... Empty. He was waiting for anger or rage or tears or joy or something fill that face, that beautiful face that had aged so much in so little time. Alastair would come to him first, he knew it. He always did.

Then he saw movement from the corner of his eye. James turned his head to Mark, who was now walking slowly towards him, one small step at a time, as if any moment he might step on a land mine that would destroy everything. James braced himself, because once Gawain reached him there would most likely be a fist flying at him. And while he deserved it, he needed to make sure he didn't get injured too badly. After all, he was still a Kingsman. 

Mark crept closer and closer until he was just a foot away from James. Mark reached out a hand, slowly, towards his face, stopping right before they touched. James held very, very still.

Silence.

Mark whispered in a hoarse voice, "Are you real?"

James swallowed hard and whispered, softly, "Yes."

Mark closed the gap between his hand and James' smooth-shaven cheek, touching his skin and leaving his hand there for a moment as if he was verifying what James had said, never breaking their eye contact. Then suddenly Mark's eyes widened and his legs collapsed beneath him.

James caught him and pulled the older man against his chest, holding him close as Mark burst into hard sobs and beat his fists against James' chest.

"You were dead! You were fucking dead, they shot you and killed you and we watched it and YOU FUCKING DIED!"

James whispered raggedly, "I know, Mark. I know."

"You LET us mourn you! You were alive this whole time and you let us suffer! You broke us and you never came back to fix it!"

James felt tears running down his own face. "I know. I am so sorry, my love, I'm sorry."

Mark went completely limp against him, sobbing and releasing all the emotions he had walled back for the past six months. James kissed his hair, stroking his back and trying to sooth him, before glancing at Alastair. He was still standing frozen by the mini bar, drinks in hand. James watched him for a moment before leaning down and scooping Mark up bridal-style. He walked over towards the mini bar and when he got to the edge of it, instead of reaching for Alastair, he simply sat on the floor and set Mark beside him. Turning to cradle the man as he continued crying, he started to explain.

"When they shot me, I had to make them think I was dead. And technically I was before something brought me back. I still don't know what it was, but I remember waking up in that godforsaken cabin freezing my arse off and losing a lot of blood. The bullet went right above my waistcoat, in the one spot that isn't protected by bulletproof cloth. Fortunately no one was in the cabin when I woke, so I was able to get to a medical kit that had the utter basics and patch myself up until I could find my way back to my base. Except by the time I got to my base, Kingsman had already sent in people to clean it out and collect my belongings. So I had no medical kit, no way of contacting Kingsman or you, and not even my bloody breakfast bars. I knew Valentine and his girl were still in the area so I had to lay low. I managed to keep myself alive with my brilliance and cunning and-"

"Oh sod off, you idiot." Mark sniffled, jabbing him in the stomach. "Get to the point: Why didn't you come back sooner?"

James' expression dropped. "I didn't mean to stay away as long as I did. I had no money to get home to you, and I needed to find out what Valentine was up to, fast. So I managed to get my way into working at one of his factories and once I figured out what the SIM cards were for, I successfully sabotaged the rest that were produced. It didn't make a difference because the signal affected you whether you had a SIM card or not, but it felt like something. Once that was over, I knew it was time to come home. It took me quite a while since I technically didn't exist anymore and I had quite a ways to travel, but thanks to some kind drivers and a few soft-hearted inkeepers..." He trailed off, finally looking Alastair in the eyes as his own welled with tears again. "I'm home."

Alastair held his gaze for a moment longer before the glasses hit the floor and Alastair was in his lap, clinging to him and kissing his face and crying. James wrapped his arms tighter around his two men, tears streaming down his own face as he held on to the two most important things in the world to him, never planning to let go again. Eventually (minutes or hours later, nobody kept track anymore), they had all stopped crying for the moment, and James glanced at the head resting on each shoulder before whispering, "Are we going to move this to the couch or the bed or what?"

Alastair and Mark both tightened their grip around him and shook their heads. "I don't want to move," Alastair said. "If I do, this might go away."

James almost burst into tears again at that. Nudging their heads upright with his shoulders, he looked them both in the eye.

"I am never going away again. I swear." He said, meaning it. From now on, one of them would be on every mission he went on for the rest of his life. 

They stared at him a moment before Alastair started crying again and buried his face in James' neck, and Mark quickly followed suit on the other side. Sighing, James gave up on going to bed and just slid down to lay on the floor, holding his boys tightly against his chest as he let the exhaustion take over. There was always tomorrow, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part 3 of 5. The entire collection is kind of being written out of order so it will all be put together once I've got the timelines sorted out.


End file.
